


i don't know where i'm going but i don't think i'm coming home

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Blow Jobs, Boys Kissing, Cheating, Coffee Shops and Katy Perry, F/F, F/M, Groping, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Married Men, More Pining, Pining, Professor Zayn, Slow Burn, Teacher-Student Relationship, Twinks, and his twinky husband Louis, constantly, frat boys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:05:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I have been cold my whole life, and suddenly, it's just you. You that just brings this whole light and warmth and I don't know how or why or what the fuck because you. You are the reason I'm not cold anymore.” [UNDER CONSTRUCTION]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. moon won't you keep on shining

**prologue**

Niall doesn't remember exactly when he stopped talking, it just, happened. Maybe it was some giant traumatic event, somehow he thinks thats why his dad always comes home smelling of alcohol and he hasn't seen his brother for nine years. His mum tells him he was such an excited kid, always talking and screeching out obscenities without a care. After primary school, he just stopped, it wasn't some weird disability, he just couldn't, unable to handle whatever had happened.

Niall's seventeen now, freshly graduated from high-school, and he's got a scholarship for this weird school down in Scotland. He doesn't remember the name, he just knows it was for highly talented kids, maybe just a nice school thats accepts frustratingly stupid kids, like him. Maybe he's not stupid, he did get higher on English than any of the idiots in his grade. Even the boy who'd tried so remarkably to beat Niall (Who would later be announced to be the classes valedictorian).

Niall still doesn't know why he got accepted into a school he didn't even apply for. He didn't even know there was anything other than sheep and land in Scotland. Maybe his geography teacher should go back to school with him.

Niall has spent nearly half of his time in a therapists office. If that sums up his life for you. He's been on some sort of anti-depressant for a good portion of his life, the same thing every day. It doesn't work very well. Considering every time Niall goes to his therapist all he does is sit there and sign back and forth about college. He isn't even depressed. Not at the moment, all he feels is the pool of schoolwork and transportation. Boring is all it is. He hopes once he actually gets to school his life will actually have some meaning in it.

**august 21st**

Niall pulled a crease in his brow and watched for the plastic C tapered to the side of his dorm building. Parking his car in the only open space, he yanked out his savior and the velvet marker that came along with it. He watched all the people, the girls with short skirts and tits pushed up their neck. He watched the guys try and help them with their leopard print luggage. Pathetic.

He hurriedly climbs out of the car, efficiently knocking his head on the roof. His cheeks flushed pink and he laughs nervously to himself like he could get someone else laugh with him as well before remembering he probably looked like a sex offender for laughing by himself.

Niall shut the door to his Baby, unlocking the trunk and heaving his bags over his shoulders, his whiteboard and marker set atop. He walked around like a child who had lost his mother, holding his lifeline tightly to his chest with the Expo marker gripped in his fingers. He scouted around for an hour before realizing he wasn't getting anywhere. Niall puffed out his chest a little and scribbled on his board. Finding somebody that looked nice enough to talk too. He went over to the taller boy with the lit cigarette and tapped him on his shoulder. Would you mind showing me my dorm? He held the board in front of his chest like a peace offering and gave the taller the kindest grin he could muster.

The boy turned around, and the first thing Niall saw was curlscurlscurls and the greenest eyes to ever grace anybody. The boy scanned the sentence on the board for a few seconds before his nose scrunched up and he snapped quite harshly, "What? Dunno how to fucking talk?" He snorts and turns around, kicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it just to say, "Grow a pair mate."

Niall doesn't look at all affected, mostly because this was the same kind of reaction he'd gotten from most of the people he's ever met. Dicks. All of them. He wished he could see them now. Niall just frowns and erases the sentence, scribbling in purple, insesitive cock i dont want to. It's quite funny the way the elder's eyebrows shoot up into his hair and he nods respectively before he wraps a hand around Niall's bicep. He pulls the map from the back of his pocket and flicks it open.

"Building C then?" The boys asks, scanning it with his eyes before shaking his head and saying, "All we need is another fucking art major," he grumbles, pulling on the boys arm saying, "They're all stuck up dicks."

Niall laughs, hesitatingly. It means two things, he agrees, or that he's an art major and he finds it funny. "Shouldn't be talkin' much myself," the boy says, chuckling, "Art major myself."

Niall just gives him a grin, switching the shoulder holding his bag and pulling out his board again. He writes, english for me, can't draw for shit.

The boy, rolls his shoulders and reads it, laughing and flattening his hair to fix the cap on his head, "God, took me years to learn how to draw a straight line without a ruler." He fixes his dirty shirt and says, "still can't do it and I wonder why I failed media last year."

Niall shakes his head and laughs, fixing his bleached blonde hair. The boy still hasn't told him his name. He looks something like a Collin, curly hair and bright green eyes that looked fake like the emeralds they sold in shops.

"Two-fifty-eight?" Collin asks, reaching for Niall's back pocket to take the map again before saying, "Sorry, indecency," he yanks the map from his pocket and surges forward so they can both see the map. "Least I didn't touch your arse," Collin laughs, opening it up to look for the building, "Fucking disgusting those kind are."

Niall almost dies. Not almost, not at all actually but, Christ, that was a punch to the gut. He paused for a second before letting it slide. It wasn't everyday he heard stupid homophobic shit, most of the time it was actually directed toward himself. Honestly it was ridiculous.

Collin shakes out the map again, searching for the building again before saying, "See just around the corner, dunno how you missed it," he folds the map back up and says. "I've gotta get going, there's Piano class orientation and I can't miss it." He claps Niall on the back and grins, "Good luck mate."

Niall turns to Colin helplessly before nodding. Colin grins and removes his hand from his back, and disappears with his chocolatey curls and green eyes.

-

Niall finds his room in no time. It's nice, bare walls, sort of, there's a fingerprint on the the white of the countertops. It's in paint, quite obviously. Neon purple paint, to make matters worse. Niall's happy the other boy, Harry or something, isn't there yet.

There's a green army bag set down on the bed closet to the Other room. There's a sign tapered up to it with girlish curly handwriting in blue pen, and that tells quite a lot about his roommate. First, that he had girly handwriting. Second, that he was rooming with an art major, mainly best there were more smudges of purple paint and even fudge.

The note read, _exploring the campus! already claimed my bed, sorry mate, I'll be at like, seven. HS xxx_

So this Harry, or Henry or even Hans, kid had already been to the room, fucked it up, and stuffed his shit in the only drawer. Niall hoped he was good-looking or else he'd have a fit because this is certainly not what he left fucking Ireland for. So Niall decides to look around, probably even in the Other room which he had yet to find out whats in it. After toeing up and feeling the mandatory key on the doorframe he opens it up and holy shit.

His mum had told him wonders about the school but this, this was fucking priceless. Inside the Other room, was the Art. (Capitalized A because holy shit that was it.) Chunks of wood meshed together with superglue and screws, was an asel. It was beautiful. So nice, and Niall hated art, mostly because he just couldn't with it. Paint tubes littered the table next to it, and unsurprisingly there was a squeezed tube of purple and blue paint next to it. A canvas was on it, smudges and effortless flows of blue and purple and even the lightest of pinks on it.

White was still trapped with it, the canvas of course unfinished and still slightly wet when Niall touched his thumb to the thicker blotches of paint. Niall would describe it as impossibly real and in his traditional Irish, fucking amazing. It's brilliant, honestly, but then again it could just be boo-boo fucking hoo the kid dropped his paints on the board and he tried to look cool. Whichever the case, it still looked nice. Niall'd be dammed if he could do something like that. Unfortunately, he's got feet for hand, can't do anything that doesn't involve words. Irony. It's the base of his heart, and it's the reason why he's aiming for an English degree.

It takes him less than a few hours to actually get around to unpacking his things. He thinks they might need another dresser or something, it'd be a good idea in the first place. Something new to the table to warm up the place. The place is bland bare walls and uninteresting bed sheets. Well not HS's. His are bright purple with airplane doodles over them. His duvet is orange. It's a surprising splash of color and Niall likes it.

Boy has spunk.

-

When HS gets home it's seven-forty-three and there are four boxes of Thai food sitting out on the dinner table. Niall's got his sweats on, a jumper, and his glasses. He's picking through the fried rice mixed with greasy broccoli and mushrooms. He's more than surprised when HS comes through the front door while Niall's busy stuffing his face with fried rice and sesame chicken. At first, Niall doesn't notice him, the boy has only set down his brown bag by the door when he calls out, "Hello?" Niall's almost choked on the piece of carrot when he hears that same cold-chocolate melting voice from the early afternoon, "Roomie? Have you come?"

Niall doesn't say anything, can't say anything, won't. So he hops off the counter and takes his rice with him, hoping to get to his board by the time but unfortunately when he rushes out the kitchen doorway, HS is going into the kitchen. Both of their chests collide and Niall suddenly feels like an idiot. Theres Anita's Thai Takeout spilled out over the floor and Niall sitting on his already-bruising ass and HS, who might actually be Colin from earlier, has soy sauce dripping down his The Strokes t-shirt.

Niall sputters for a half second before scrambling up, the first words out of Colin's mouth were, "What the fuck," and Niall doesn't think it's a good first impression considering his mouth is covered in soy sauce as well. He wants to apologize over and over until he cannot but that had already been done so he raises his hands above his face and backs down like a puppy about to get kicked.

"How the fuck, did you get into my dorm?" Colin glowers, kicking aside the box of Thai as he steps forward, looking much more threatening then he did that morning, then, his face softens. "Aren't you Blondie? From earlier? Boy who didn't talk?" At this, Niall nods his head frantically, in hopes of not getting his face totally ruined.

"Shit mate," Colin laughs, reaching downwards to start picking off the fried rice, "If I'd have known I wouldn't be coming home so late," Colin starts sweeping the rice into a pile with both of his hands as Niall stares at him, just a pinch awestruck, "Harry, by the way, and you," he piles the whole thing into his hand so he can toss it, "are Niall, said so in the emails, also the boy from the afternoon, lil'un."

Niall's cheeks turn pink at that, watching Harry-not-Colin throw away the rice from the floor. The fact that Harry has just called him, 'lil'un' makes him feel like some sort of hobbit and entirely feminine. He is sure as shit not short, shorter than Harry, yes, sort as a Hobbit? Definitely not.

"See you ordered food without me," Harry says, a snort working its way out of Harry's throat, almost forced and irritable already. "Thanks for the consideration."

Though Niall still had chunks of fried rice in his mouth he waved around the pair of chopsticks, that had miraculously stayed in his left hand, sort of in apology before he darts around Harry. His board is still sitting on the edge of his bed, his marker no where to be seen. Instead of actually looking for it he opens up his duffel and picks out a blue one for the inside pocket. Handy when in a rush, annoying when he had more colors than even needed. He had lilac for God's sake!

Uncapping the pen and ignoring the rest of his mud puddle of thoughts, he writes sorry all too sloppily and practically dives back into the kitchen to see Harry with his thumbs in a box of Sesame noodles. When Harry perks up underneath his curls he slurps the noodles, getting orange colored sauce on his chin and gives a shrug, mumbling out, "Couldn't help myself," and Niall throws his board on the table helplessly, just picking up the nearest box and sticking his fingers in it.

It's a quiet and short bond formed then, sticky fingers and Thai food on a Saturday night while Harry has paint on the underside of his nose and Niall's thumbs are marked with Expo. It's nice and peaceful like the forest in their hearts, only one seems darker and fairer than the latter.

Harry slurps to awaken the awkward noises, sticking his greasy thumb in between his lips and suckle on it, "Y'don't talk?"

Niall shakes his head, duque sauce on the corners of his mouth. Harry grins and slurps again, tipping his head back to shroud out the last mushroom from the box. He chews aggressively and swallows the same with his jaw flexing constantly and Niall wants to mark it. "S'cool, why don't you talk?"

Niall licks his fingers and picks up marker scribbling a half-assed excuse on the board, blah blah parental rebellion blah blah too much words blah blah blah. It had something along the lines of the world is too fucked to be graced by Niall's poetic words. Words that were usually phrase into sentences like, where's the pizza. Or, why are my boxers on the lamp shade? More often than not his most used words are fuck, cock, and never.

Harry reads over the words silently with the exception if the small suckling noises as he cleans his fingers barbarically. Harry has a habit of saying cool a lot so when he swipes the letters off the board and says, "Cool!" Characteristically, Niall just grins and nods along.

**august 29th**

Niall lasts approximately eight days and thirteen hours with Harry.

The kid is a right fucking douchebag; he gets a negative vibe from somebody and the next thing anybody knows is that they've just been punched in the face by Harry fucking Styles (literally).

Sometimes Niall sees the dimple in his cheek (only ever comes out when anything involving pizza, and shopping is involved).

Harry comes in like a fucking hurricane. Niall's sitting on the couch, the fat friggin' couch shoved in the corner of the entertainment room, his hand is in a bag of crisps and he's dressed like he's going out to the gym, a red hoodie and black trackies on.

The door slams open, first things first, and then the whirlwind comes in, cursing sentences like, "Fucking abomination," and "Piece of shit," the often "Worthless asshole." He kicks the coat stand. "Dumb fucking wank." He slams his knuckles in the doorknob and lets out a stream of shitfuckingballs.

Harry, the ever-righteous fuck, kicks, actually kicks the peg of a leg that held up the couch, making it jerk. He held his hand to his chest, the skin in between his knuckles red and pulsating, and hissed, "Gay-boy, get the fuck out," it's not the fact that Harry just called him gay-boy (It's not like its new to his ears anyways) but the simplicity of the sentence that makes Niall laugh.

Harry looks offended.

He kicks the couch leg once more and this time, despite his knuckles turning purple, he fists into the shoulder of Niall's hoodie and yanks him upwards. He makes a surprised sound just as the bag of crisps spills all over the plastic film floor.

Harry doesn't give him the chance to do anything, all he does is shove Niall forward, towards the open door and shout, "Fuck off! Homo!"

Niall feels like he's in a Hallmark movie. Maybe Brokeback Mountain. But then again, Niall can proudly say he's never seen Brokeback Mountain.  
Harry knocks his hands into Niall's back, making him stutter forward on his toes. The door is open and his hands are flailing everywhere in an attempt to stop Harry from literally throwing him out. To no avail, Harry grabs the neck of his hoodie, lifts him up and forward, and pitches him out.

Niall hits the wall first, biting through his cheek and tongue, at the same, he doesn't know how that happened. But then shoes and anything belonging or even looking like it belonged to Niall was being thrown at him. His suitcase, his shoes, his whiteboard, all of the markers left lying around.

One hits him square in the eye and the giant fucking klutz he is, punches himself in the eye trying to soothe it from becoming swollen and gross. He hopes he can tell his kids one day, "Your father once punched himself in the face getting kicked out by his college roommate, and knocked himself out cold."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAYYYYY So I have finally updated this first chapter and hopefully the next updated chapter will be out this time next week! Thank you all for your love and support! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niall finds out Liam has a heart of gold and that he just might be home to Niall for the next few months.

"You're right fucked," Liam tells Niall after dropping his sociology coursework and helping him off the floor. "You know you've got nobody when Harry Styles has kicked you out."

Niall's still a bit confused; he knows his eyelashes are wet from when Harry had shoved him, his sweatshirt is sticking to his back as well. Having fallen on the sticky purple paint when he stumbled on the plastic on the floor. Niall sniffles as he gives a faint smile at the frat boy, wiping off his jeans like any normal person before going to pick up his now ruined whiteboard and trying to scribble something on it. He huffed a bit angrily as he kicked the door. 

"Need a place?" Liam asked, picking up his coursework and one of Niall's bags. 

Niall smiled sadly and nodded, tracing his thumb through the purple paint and writing out a half-assed 'please'. Liam just nods and says, "Yeah, I take people in all the time, girlfriend thinks it's a bother, but, she doesn't mind."

Niall nods as Liam takes ahold of his forearm and starts dragging him, "I feel so bad, I mean Harry's usually not this rude," Liam pulls him up a flight of stairs, and he looks so happy and grinning and all, so Niall gives him a big smile and follows after him. "You don't talk right?"

Niall nods and he feels quite repetitive as he sees a door with giant numbers on it, "I don't know if Danielle is back or not, she's got class at four and it's like three or something so she might be gone, but just incase she isn't, don't be alarmed."

Niall just watches him, pulling his keys out if his pockets and starts unlocking the door. The dorm is nice, sort of, theres a bra hanging on a lamp and two pairs of boxers in the kitchen which Niall laughs at while Liam blushes and grins stupidly saying he'll get that later. "Sorry for the mess, don't ever have time to clean up before we've got a guest." 

Niall shook his head, feeling rather disconnected as he went to reach for his beloved whiteboard but huffed when he found it not there. He chewed onto his lower lip, picking the ruined thing up and writing on the back with his almost worn out marker, 'Do you know sign language?' but the marker had started fading on certain letters so now it read, 'D ou now s gn lang age.' 

Liam had picked up the board, squinted and working out most of the letters, "Sign language?" He chortled, taking both the marker and board and stuffing them in the bin with a couple of boxes of Thai takeout. "Lucky kiddo, I picked up some from my choir teacher; had to do a song with signing along with it," as he was speaking his hands were moving along with the words, Niall paid more attention to his hands than words as Liam finished with, "Ended up signing the wrong thing and apparently it was inappropriate, whatever it was."

Niall laughed, thinking of a chubby boy with a red face in a church choir gown as he signed back quickly, "Unfortunate, I've had a few mistakes myself, this one time-"

"Oh my god, slow down," Liam laughed, picking up a football jersey and a pair of underwear from the floor, "Not all of us are that fluent," he juggled around the ball of clothes before wadding them up and stuffing them in the washer to be washed later. "Start again, I got like three words, but y'know try it a bit, slower."

Niall's face turned pink as he nodded, starting over and telling him a story of how he had tried to meet a deaf girl but had actually called her something rude, which permanently scarred him away from girls for the rest of his life. Niall helped Liam with the cleanup, picking up clothes and takeout boxes off of the floor with ease. He almost screamed when he saw a ferret- a fucking ferret underneath one of the numerous pairs of red pants Liam seems to own. In fact he did scream, a manly shriek as he called it. The thing was called Natasha, and it belonged to Liam. It's nails were painted purple and it had a bow clipped to it's short hair which looked ridiculous, Niall just didn't say anything about it. 

After around two hours of tidying up, the dorm was somewhat clean, there was steamed rice stuck in between the couch and half a celery stick somewhere in the dorm. Liam set him a bed, pulled out the mattress and set it up in the living room with ease, putting a sheet on it and telling Niall to call it home. Niall had shed his stained hoodie, making a mental reminder to punch Harry Styles in the face. Liam told him he had work (night shifts at sandwich shop called Shlotzskys), and he wouldn't be home until midnight. 

Liam gave Niall a hug before dressing out and taking off, telling Niall to do whatever he pleased. Which sounded like the perfect time to take a shower. He did actually, scrubbing off purple paint from his hands and on the top of his arse which he didn't even know how it got there. After scrubbing and shaving (his stubble not, y'know) himself squeaky clean, he wrapped a fluffy red towel around his waist and dried out his hair best he could. He soon realized he had left his bag on the couch, mentally slapping himself as he darted out, one hand tightening around the towel at his waist and the other digging through his bags, coming up with sweats, boxers and a shirt. He hears the soft pitter-patter of feet and a sweet-like-honey voice say, "Liam? Babe, s'that you? I thought you had work today." 

Niall turned around quickly, hoping that was the girlfriend and she was barely coming inside, then he'd have one to get back to the living room. Too late. There is a mound of curls in his mouth and his towel is quickly slipping as she shrieks. "Not Liam!" She says, batting the boy away and backing away with wide eyes, "Oh my god I'm so sorry," she says, and Niall feels like he should be telling her that as he signs it, darting into the bathroom and starting to pull on his clothes, hearing Danielle start laughing before disappearing elsewhere.

Niall comes out of the bathroom ten minutes later, hair pressed onto his forehead and his long-distance glasses perched on his nose, his cheeks still flushed dark pink as he tries to look for her, hoping to apologize. He finds her in the kitchen, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders as she stirs what looks like a pot of macaroni and cheese. He's not sure how he's supposed to get her attention so he awkwardly stands there for a few minutes until she turns around and jumps, placing a hand over her heart and saying, "Oh you scared me!"

Niall opens his mouth, many times he's done that today, before closing it and giving a tight-lipped smile, putting a hand in the air and waving it. She waves her delicate little tanned fingers in the air and deliberately hummed, turning around to pasta and continuing to stir it again. "So are you going to be staying with us for a while?" Danielle inquired, her brown eyes flickering with curiosity.

After receiving no response, Danielle looks up to the boy, seeing him shuffling on his feet with his hands awkwardly clasped behind his back. "Are you, going to say anything... At all?" She asks, raising her eyebrow and turning the heat on the stove off. Niall shakes his head and gives he a sad little smile. "It's alright, I get it, stress or something right? Liam tells me all about his work and study. He's doing human resource or whatever it's called," Dani turns back around, her small shoulders shrugging.

Niall stays quiet for a minute before looking over at the four-seater table and deciding to sit down, the chair legs scraping as he did so. "I think he's going to be one of those like, physiatrists or somethin', no no no- um, counselor I think."

Niall is busy straightening things on the table. Fixing the place mats and setting chairs evenly, biting on his tongue while doing so. “Are you enjoying that?" Danielle asks, watching him, a small smile on his face as Niall blushed, sucking his tongue back in his mouth and nodding his head stupidly, "Yeah I get where you are, I do that a lot, helps me calm down."

Niall nods again, understanding in his eyes, turning around to even out the salt and pepper. He does that for about ten minutes, up until Dani grabs two large mugs out of the cabinet with a coffee stain on it, she gives him a good portion of the macaroni and cheese. He signs her thank you and she just grins and says excitidly, "Oh Oh! I know what that one is! It's thank you, right?"

Niall nods his head and give her an actual thumbs up, taking the fork she was offering and sticking it in the food. He sets it down on the table and resumes counting out the toothpicks in the small seashell holder, he counts twenty-seven and he huffs, taking out a few and counting again, this time getting a higher number. He adds them back in and does this for a few times before throwing out three toothpicks and placing them in the holder properly. When he looks bak up he sees Danielle setting pans and pots in the sink, a mouthful of macaroni and cheese as she beckons him to join her on the couch. 

When he sits down next to her she covers their legs and half of their torsos with a giant lavender colored blanket, Niall tried to keep a comforting distance from her but she ends up laying on his legs, snoring with a spoon in her mouth. Niall cleans her up and sets the mugs on the little coffee table before coddling down into the couch. He thinks he could get used to this. He just dreads his classes in a few days.


	3. Chapter 3

Niall learns his history teacher doesn't like him. His name is Professor Malik and he says he doesn't like Niall's attitude. But he's not particularly sad about that. It's when the professor puts his thumb up against Niall's lips and parts them, stroking his lower lip and telling him he's too pretty for a boy, before telling him to leave. Niall just cries into his sweater for ten minutes before cantering up and going back to the flat.

When Niall tells Liam about it, Liam reassures him and says that Professor Malik has a husband. And that he flirts with all the boy students. Him and his husband have broken up thrice now. Niall doesn't let it cross his mind, especially not when he sees Professor Malik hooking his thumbs in Harry Styles' belt loops and pulling him onto the desk. No, he doesn't mention it at all.

Three weeks into school Liam gets fired from his job and Niall has to go looking. They both end up working at a donut and coffee shop in the middle of campus, both apply for the afternoon shifts and get the same schedule once. Harry is a regular there. He always comes in, orders three cake balls, a latte and a frap and leaves. He doesn't make any snarky remarks other than asking for Liam to write something cute on the cup. Niall works in the back and helps clean up when they make mess, and stock the display. 

One week later and Niall makes a new friend. 

She's a whole head shorter than him and she's a bit pudgy but Niall think's its adorable. Her name is Tessa and she has grey eyes and pink hair. She doesn't know sign language but she always brings napkins and paper and pens for Niall to write on and her to read. She says she doesn't like anybody and that she runs a blog dedicate to Doctor Who.

Niall invites her over for tea and a marathon of Torchwood. She always brings the small tins of cookies and Niall loves spending Saturday nights with her. Niall could say he's a bit infatuated with her. She's a lovely girl and she has a lover. Her name is Jaime. She has green eyes and brown hair and freckles. 

Niall doesn't catch sight of Harry that much. Of course his hatred still burns in the pit of his stomach for Harry, as does six weeks of school-boy-crush. It's wrong, it so wrong, but so is seeing Harry Styles sucking off their history professor. 

It happens three weeks before Christmas break and two weeks before exams. Professor Malik had been a bit frustrated with the class (and his husband) but no matter. They'd all gotten through the lesson safely, and revision papers were handed out and everybody was stressing out. At the end of the class Harry had spilled his books all over the table and chair. 

It was a mess. Truly. Everybody had rushed out but Harry had stayed behind, cleaning up his books and waiting for the last student to leave with a slam of the door. Eventually they all clear out and Harry has shoved his books down to the bottom of his bag.

It looks like he's about to leave, rushing to the door but really his book bag drops next to the chalkboard and Harry throws his arms around the professors neck. Zayn, as he'd so nicely asked the class to call him, grabs two handfuls of Harry's arse; Harold's own gangly legs wrapping around Zayn's waist in less than five seconds. Of course the first thing Harry says in between kisses in, "Not," he smashes his mouth against Zayn's, their tongues grinding against each other like velvety gears, "Gay."

"Course' sweetheart," Zayn says, resting his back against the chalkboard as his slim fingers get to work on the button of Harry's jeans.

After a minute of hot tongues and Zayn slipping off his wedding ring to slip a hand in the back of Harry's trousers to involuntarily grope him, Harry hops off of the professor and he gets down on his knees. Zayn's slacks are popped open and Harry yanks them down, pausing to grind the heel of his palm against the front of Zayn's boxers.

Harry finally pulls those down aswell, and Zayn's long and all around thick cock hits him in the cheek before it bobs once and rests on Harry's lower lip.

"C'mon," Professor Malik grunts, settling his hand on Harry's curls and tugging his head forward, the head sliding in before Harry slackens his jaw and opens his mouth wider, just how the professor likes it, "Good boy, yeah, thatsit'."

Unbeknownst to the pair, Niall's most recent reading material sits in the room. Niall's peeked in the doorway, a sign held up to his chest with a silly explanation. Of course they don't notice. He was going to just come, in and out and back to the flat. What stopped him was seeing the mop of curls and groaning professor underneath.

His instinctive reaction was to slam the door and run away. But his immediate reaction was to be shell-shocked, watching the exchange between them. It almost breaks his heart when he sees Zayn's wedding ring fail to stow away in his pocket and instead fall onto the floor to be knelt on by Harry.

Niall stays in the doorway for a good twenty seconds, twenty seconds in which Harry gets pulled up by his upper bicep and his jeans slide from under his arse, and Zayn's got two fingers in Harry. He shuts the door quietly and scurried off, his mind a tornado of shock and wrongandillegal. He doesn't attend his next history class for fear of getting the same treatment as Harry did. 

Not that it's a bad thing (and if Niall gets off to the image of a wrecked  
Harry then so be it) considering how attractive the History professor is but for God's sake the man has a husband! 

Niall doesn't speak about it, but he sure as hell tells Danielle.

He's got his newest whiteboard sat in his lap and The Great British Bake-Off is on the television. It's a week after the whole ordeal and Niall can't contain it all in. Finally he ends up scribbling it all in one jumbled together paragraph and ink marks from his unlucky left-handedism. 

Niall hands it over to Danielle and waist for her to read it all, once she does, her hand flies to cover her mouth as she holds back a laugh, "Oh my god!" 

Danielle gives him a one-over before saying, "You little exhibitionist! Watching them and all!" She pinches Niall's arm and he thumps her knee while he erases it and writes something else.

‘Fuck you!’ It says, bright orange letters spelling it out as Niall laughs and erased it with the sleeve of his favorite hoodie.

"But you really caught them fucking?" Danielle asks after one of the contestants is voted off, "Like, nasty, that's on school ground, and isn't he likes thirty- and married?"

Niall has ten seconds before writing, ‘He's twenty-five, and yeah’. Danielle scrunched up her nose and shook her head. 

"Ain't his husband like eighteen years younger than him?” She adjusts herself on the couch, plopping her legs into Niall's lap and saying, "No he's only like three or four innit he?"

Niall nods, wiping off the remaining marks on his board with his thumb. "Didn't Harry kick you out of his dorm for being gay?" Niall doesn't say anything, he keeps his eyes locked on the crying woman who'd gotten voted off, "Asshole, he really shouldn't've told you anything if he's fucking the history professor."

It's then that Liam decides to come out of hibernation, clad in a pair of sweats and a mismatched socks. "Oo' are we talking' about know?" He asks jokingly, kissing Danielle's forehead before flopping down on the couch underneath the window. 

"Harry Styles and the history professor are fucking," She tells him, picking up the television remote and switching the channel to some other overrated cooking show.

Liam looks confused for a moment before he asks, "How do you know that?" 

Niall finally joins in as he signs, ‘Forgot my book in the room and I went in to retrieve it and the professor had Harry practically bent over the desk.’

"Disgusting," Liam scrunches up his face before saying, "Isn't it illegal?" 

Niall nods as Danielle sits up straighter and says, "Exactly my point! Like he's not even eighteen yet is he?" 

"Dunno, probably is over eighteen," Liam says, "God knows how weird he is with his age."

Danielle slouched down in the couch, "God knows how everyone is with their age."

"It's only five years," Liam says and Niall feels a bit left out. "It's really not that big of a deal."

"But it is," Danielle whined, cowering in the lavender blanket, "It's a horrible age gap," she turns to Niall and asks, "Is being five years older than someone in a relationship bad Niall?"

Niall shakes his head for a response, instead of signing because he knows how hard it is for Danielle to pick up on that.

"See!" Liam exclaims, getting up from the couch, "It's not even bad, so matter as long as they love each other."

Niall scrunched up his nose and made a face, ‘Gross,’ he signed, getting up as well and disappearing in the bathroom where he changed into his work shirt and apron. 

Niall came back into the sitting room to see Danielle and Liam coddled up onto the couch, both with bowls of Shreddies in their hands. ‘Off to work,’ he signed, picking up his phone and his name tag from the bowl of miraculously placed keys in the smallest foyer to exist.

Niall strides out the door, tucking his keys in his pocket and slipping on his name tag that was personally made to say, ‘Hello! My names is Niall, I'm deaf, unfortunately, please speak slowly.’ It was easier to say he was deaf than to possibly say he was a mute that refused to talk. Of course it would probably offend any other deaf people but it made work easier for Niall. 

Niall got to the shop in less than ten minutes, opening up the shop with ease as one of his co-workers, Maggie came in, and started stocking all the displays. It was a nice lovely morning, with the newest single by Passenger playing on the small little tune-up radio Maggie had boughten for the shop. The first three customers are seniors, a blonde, and two brunettes, all are incredibly nice to Niall as he's taking their orders, Maggie reads it back to them with ease and starts making the drinks. 

Niall's pretty sure the short brunette was coming onto him, what with the way she rolled the letters in her order. He had more than half the mind to tell her he liked boys. But he can't and won't, so it's whatever. They leave once they get their drinks and it's quite again, until Maggie starts shouting out the lyrics to the Katy Perry song that's on. 

Niall laughs and laughs and wants to join her but when he opens his mouth, the words tangle in a knot in his throat and he decides to better not. Four hours past with eighteen more customers. One of them being professor Malik's husband. 

Louis Tomlinson is a short little number, with a bum that could rival Kim Kardashian, and floppy brown hair. He was a twink. To be simple. But apparently so was Niall, so he didn't put it further out of mind. He got two cups of coffee, one black and the other with all this soy milk and things. He also got one of the orders of lemon cake and maybe Niall's scrunchinizing him but not really. 

Louis talks to Niall like a love struck teenager, and Niall takes a moment to remember that Louis' only twenty-one, or something, fresh out of university with a job of some sort, and a husband to match. Louis seems happy though, and Niall gets a certain pang in his chest when he rings up the order and Louis tells him goodbye. 

Harry comes in two hours after that. His lips are swollen and red and his eyes are tinged a bit pink, he's talking slower than usual though, when he orders and tells Niall to write a lovey message on the cup. Harry's got a bruise sucked under his jaw and his legs are kind of shaking now that Niall really looks. 

Niall's just about to be sick when Maggie saves the day and says that a child's spilt their hot chocolate on the floor. Of course they give the child a new one and clean the floor without a whole fucking lawsuit. It's when Niall's tossing the marshmallows into the trash bin that Harry comes over. He sets his girly coffee on one of the table and backs Niall up a little. 

"Saw you, know you saw me too, and the professor," Harry's face turns pink, but the angering look is back, and he's a whole head taller that Niall and right now he could break Niall if he breathed. "You fucking say anything or whatever the fuck you do to communicate. I. Will. Ruin. You." 

Harry kicks over the not-quite-empty mop-bucket, the dirty water sloshing before spilling on the floor. He finally spits out, "Faggot," and all Niall can do is choke back a laugh because he wasn't the one who was letting the history professor fuck him up the arse. 

Maggie rushes over as if she could do anything to stop the water spilling over but it's really no use. Harry's already out the door with his girly coffee and stupid fucking flannel shirt. Niall sulks for the rest of the day. 

The whole thing progresses slowly, lunch isn't a bother and Niall takes his break to talk with Tessa and Jaime who've come on a date and Danielle visits him and gives him half of a granola bar she was eating. He gets off at five, an since he doesn't have classes that day, he walks around the campus aimlessly. It's not the first time he's done this. Whenever Liam and Danielle have a fit about something he usually stays out of their way or goes and sleeps with Tessa and Jaime, (not with them, in the pullout-couch in their flat). 

Niall doesn't quite want to go home yet, not when it's all nice and dark and he feels at home for some odd reason. So he takes a spot under a tree, one of the larger ones, and he just sits. It's quite lovely, for a while, up until Niall absolutely has to get up and go bad to the horror that is NiallLiamandDanielle's flat. 

Niall's just stepped into the building, routing up the familiar steps and counts out the rooms just to make sure he doesn't miss his. He's trying to fish his keys out of his pockets just because he knows Thursday is always date night for Liam and Danielle, they've probably gone to eat at a truck stop or pot noodles in a park. Quite the romantic Liam is. 

There's a sudden drop in the atmosphere and the door opened somewhere, but his feet just keep moving, scaling the steps until there's the pressure of large hands grabbing onto his bicep. He's got half the mind to pepper spray whoever's grabbed him but he's got no time to pull it out. 

He feels like a sap and completely defenseless as the hand twists Niall so he's facing this stranger. .01 seconds are gone and Niall barely had time to react before there a hot pink inviting lips on his own. 

Really he should scream for help or kick the stranger in the balls but the hands on his biceps, and holding him in place and whatnot, makes him chill down to the bone. 

It seems like forever, the man- boy, whatever it was, (hopefully a man), hasn't taken a breath or anything then Niall gets it. He wants Niall to kiss back. It takes a bit of time, ten seconds and Niall's trying to fit their lips together like a puzzle with all different pieces of different puzzles. It's complicated.

Their lips mash together awkwardly and a hand moves from gripping his bicep to cupping his chin. There's cold metal on one of the mans fingers and Niall thinks it's the history professor for a few seconds because who the fuck actually wears a ring if they're not married or something. The strangers leans back a little for a breath before diving back in, teeth clanking together as he practically shoved his entire existence down Niall's throat. 

Niall gags for a few, choking around this guys fucking tongue. Then both of his hands and cupping Niall's cheeks, one of them is his bum and the other is his face. He has two seconds to react. 

And boy does he.

There's no longer a knot in his throat or waves of hurt pushing down his vocals as he lifts up a balled up fist, and punches the man straight in the jaw. 

Their teeth clank together and then the man is clutching his wounded jaw, whimpering and whining as he says, "What the fuck was that for? I was apologizing you twat!"

Niall's hand really fucking hurts because the man had such a sharp jawline and Niall wasn't expecting that, a surge of anger courses through him as he goes to kick the man, only to recognize the curls, same curls that had been weaves through the history professor fingers.

It was Harry. 

Niall was always expecting his first words in ten years to be something a bit more poetic like, I love you, but no, this utter fucking dick, had gotten his first words in ten years out of him. "You fucking cock."

So Niall kicks him again.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry barely makes it out alive.

Niall is probably one of the scariest people to face when he's angry let alone fucking furious at someone. That someone being the lanky boy that's trying to keep from getting the wind knocked out of him. He hasn't said anything more, only expressing his sheer anger as he punches Harry, over and over.

It's not long before Harry finally gets back up on his feet and retains the boy, pulling his arms away from swinging anywhere near his already bleeding mouth and nose. He's a mess, to be short. His nose is somewhere not far off broken and he's already got bruises on his ribs. Niall finally gives up after trying to knee Harry in the groin, his face a shade of splotchy pink and red from taking in such harsh breaths. It's a sight to see.

"You're Irish?" Harry presses the heel of his palm to his nose, pulling it back and seeing a mess of blood, he pressed it back and tilted his head up.

"Fuck off," Niall growls, and it feels weird, sounds weird too, his voice is deep, thick accented, Harry's mind likes to describe as something like honey; sweet, and thick.

"Easy babe," Harry says, a low chuckle stuck in his throat, he can't really laugh because his teeth are bleeding and so is his nose which is gross all together.

Niall's lip twitches, his hands do too because he may or may not want to punch Harry again. He really shouldn't spit out another insult because the last he wants to do is grace this stupid, curly-haired fucker with the words he's been building up for ten years. So he doesn't, he screws his lips together and stalks off, and maybe he punches Harry's shoulder pathetically when he strides by him.

Niall fumbles with his keys for a few minutes, his eyes blurring with humiliation and embarrassment. There's acid burning in his stomach that feels a lot like anger and like his not-so-much innocence had been stolen. There's a lock in his throat and Niall will be dammed if he lets Harry hold the key to it. He finally gets the door open, swinging it shut and letting the slam of the door comfort him.

He locks the flat, bolting the windows and flopping face down onto his makeshift bed on the floor. Natasha, Liam's ferret scampers out from underneath the couch and goes to leap onto Niall.

Niall makes a grunting noise in protest, huffing down into his nest of pillows and blankets. He doesn't move for a while, only give out huffy little breaths into his pillow. Eventually he switches over to his back, setting Natasha down on his stomach as he says, "People assholes."

His tongue gets heavy in his mouth as he tries to remember how normal people talk. He has to remind himself that talking is a lot more complicated than sign language is. Sign language was easy, you signed a few words and everyone knew what you had said. So he spends an hour talking to Nash. For a ferret, she's a good listener. Basically Niall tells her his life story, starting off with when he was four, up until now.

He gets better, in a half hour he knows how to get past his lisp without sounding stupid and he can pronounce his own name. Even though he'd heard it a number of times, he can't get past Ni-all, and move into Ni-uhl. He's telling Nash something about his brother, when giggling comes through the door. It's Danielle who's giggling furiously and Liam's talking in a low tone. Niall instantly shuts up, swallowing down all of his words. He moves his hand to pet Nash, removing the bright purple bow from her head and fixing it again.

Danielle stumbles in first, clutching a water bottle, a candy bar and her phone in her hand. Liam closes the door just to see them shroud up against the wall, Liam's hands splayed over Danielle's back and chest. Niall coughs and they jolt apart like they've been electrocuted.

"Sorry Niall," Danielle giggles, covering her mouth with a hand, "Honestly didn't see you there."

Niall wants to say something, wants just for somebody he actually likes to hear him just once.

"Know."

He almost does it. As soon as he opens his mouth, Liam's hands filter up and trace patterns on Danielle's thigh, making the girl laugh and try to swat away Liam's wandering hands even though they all know she really does not want them to go away. Niall screws his lips back together and holds his words back to the cage in his chest.

"Think you could go and crash at-" Danielle starts to say, her curly hair brushed aside as Liam's mouth tucks in between her neck, she squeaks a little and Niall's downright disgusted at this point, his eyes narrowed and his nose scrunched up, "Tessa and Jaime's flat for the night."

Its never really a question, that or Niall scrambling up and scouting towards the door was enough of an answer for the pair. He takes his phone and his charger, knowing they'll be texting druken slurs of  _come join the party nialleerrr!!!_ He knows, they always do it. It takes him fifteen seconds to grab his shoes and things before he's being ushered out the door.

Two seconds pass and giggling and the sounds of furniture scraping the floors comes from the flat and Niall prays for their neighbors. It takes him twenty minutes to get to Tessa and Jaime's flat twenty-seven if he stops and buys a tin of cookies and coffee for them all. So he does.

He gets to Tessa and Jaime's flat at ten thirty-seven, they're most likely asleep or worse. He still knocks on the door and he doesn't get answer for five minutes until Jaime answers the door with makeup smudged and hair ruffled, "Whaddya want?"

"In," Niall says, cradling the three cups to his chest.

Jaime steps aside and lets the boy in sleepily, her glasses on her nose as she said, "It's late, did Danielle and Liam kick you out?"

Niall nods and sets the coffee down on their small table. The flat is larger than Liam and Danielle's, they've actually got a table that sits six and a large television. Niall likes it there. "That sucks," Jaime says, helping Niall set down the box of cookies and coffee, "They just don't cherish you enough love," Jaime sets the coffee in the fridge and pulls on Niall hand until he's stumbling with her into the large bedroom.

"C'mon, nobody wants to sleep on the air mat," Tessa is curled into her limited edition Doctor Who blanket, a chocolate biscuit in her hand. She looks tired and her glasses are sat on the night stand but the television is halfway through an episode of Downtown Abbey.

"You alright?" She asks, scooting over on the bed and pulling down the covers, letting the smaller boy flop inbetween Tess and Jaime.

"Fine," Niall says, tucking the covers under his armpits and angrily coddling down into the pillows.

They don't say anything but the two girls arguing on the television is loud enough for the three of them.

-

He's in class. His English professor is loudly trying to explain the difference between  _nadir_  (the lowest point of something and Niall thinks that it's a perfect word to describe himself), when Liam texts him. It's not exactly shamed when a kid whips out their phone to text their mum back but it's never really okay either, the professor won't scold him for it but he'll chastise the girls when they put their phones on the desks and act as if they don't know it's vibrating.

_prof maleks been fird nd aprently lou filed 4 a dicvorce_

good, serves the cunt right for fucking his students

_dnt b a cock abut it harries blazig at woever told the dean_

Niall doesn't reply for a full five minutes, scribbling down, loud and boisterous next to the blank on the worksheet.

_he thnks u did it so wwtch out htes gonna b lookin 4 u_

he can suck my dick and I'll fucking murder him if he tries

_I'm sure hll b up 4 tht_

It's only been a week since Niall had started actually talking to them, and he's still trying to grasp ahold of the basics; adding in the, and, a whenever appropriate. The professor's have been nice about it, they teach a pinch slower than usual but it's really not necessary. The class is over once  _deride_  and  _despot_  are inked onto the students foreheads with the definition underneath their skin.

A certain bundle of grease and curls are leaning on the doorframe when Niall packs his books and goes to meet up with Liam for lunch. His hands are shoved in his pockets and he's trying to work his ring out of a knot and loose string on the inside of his pocket. "Hiya babe," his nose is a switch crooked and his lower lip is swollen with a partial scab and his fingers are bruised.

"Piss off," Niall says once, broadening his shoulders with what masculinity he claims he has; he could feel the enmity in his bone marrow radiating from him.

"Feisty," Harry pokes, yanking his ring from his fingers and pulling the string from his trousers, "You like that in bed too?"

Niall rolls his eyes and stalks towards Shlotskys, his book bag swinging with every step.

"Oh c'mon love, I can't just have a little fun with you?" Harry slides his ring back on his finger and  _despot_  pops into his head; a dictator with absolute power.

Niall responds with nothing but the rage rattling his muscles. Harry huffs a little, the sunglasses on his broken-and-not-fixed nose sliding down. He takes them off and Niall watched the purple slush of his left eye squint and try to find the angelic features of Niall in less than four seconds. "Can you just listen to me?"

Niall doesn't answer, he knows he can, he knows he can hit him, kick him, slap him, punch him and criticize very decision the older's ever made with one single look and word to ride him into the ground.

"Niall," Harold sounds defeated, striding long to keep with up with Niall's bounce and step, his voice had broken on the first vowel and his whole pride was teetering over the edge of Niall's attention and Niall's unsympathetic-ness. Wheras if Harold were to fly over the cliff Niall would give less than two  _cacs._

"Please."

There it was, the impending crash and burn of Harold Styles and the closeted gay. Niall whirls around and watches him for a few seconds, the boy's face contorting into a sort of crying face, impeccably repulsive, but Niall thought he was a pretty crier."What you- What do you want?"

The first few milliseconds Harry's face is pale and his cheekbones hollowed around the words he  _needsneedsneeds_  to say, "I'm sorry."

Niall almost chokes. He snorts and tosses his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing as he laughs, because like that's going to mend everything back together. "Right," he chortles, dawdling for just a moment to turn and look at Harry, "Fuck off," it's a sort of slow burn for Harry, because he looks so sad and depressed, he says it over again like a second time with flip Niall's whole stomach around and he'll suddenly try and jump Harry's bones to say his,  _I forgive you._

"Niall," Harry begs once more, trailing after said boy like a lost puppy, "Niall, I'm sorry," It seems like those are the only two words that can come out of his toilet of a mouth.

Niall doesn't turn around and look at the boy, he only glared ahead, trying to remember the definition for impudent, thinking that it was something Harry was being quite right now, "You don't mean it," Niall says, and his tongue is still stuck to the roof of his mouth when he talks, feeling like it weighs around seven thousand tons, "Come back later, when actually mean it."

Harry stomps his feet on the ground like a child throwing a tantrum over a bit of candy he can't have. He regains his air of betterthanyou and says smugly, "See you tomorrow babe."


End file.
